


In Which Destiny is a Bitch, and Gavin Most Definitely Doesn’t Want Michael to Fall In-Love with Him

by jesustakethewii (canonmerlinisatwink)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Parallel Universes, double!Michael, pseudo-established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canonmerlinisatwink/pseuds/jesustakethewii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Michael shows up at Gavin’s doorstep in the arse crack of dawn, drenched and shivering and wearing nothing but a pair of flannel boxers and a flimsy white shirt.</i>
  <br/><i>Gavin stares at him, baffled, for all of three seconds before Michael surges forward, takes his head in his hands, and looks at him with a desperate sort of relief in his eyes. Gavin swallows uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.</i>
  <br/><i>“Michael, what—” he tries, but then Michael is suddenly kissing him, wet mouth pressed tight against his own, dry lips.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Magical Realism!AU; In which Michael Jones has a doppelganger who is really Him-from-Another-Universe and who is also, as it turns out, head-over-bollocks for one Gavin David Free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Michael shows up at Gavin’s doorstep in the arse crack of dawn, drenched and shivering and wearing nothing but a pair of flannel boxers and a flimsy white shirt.

 

Gavin stares at him, baffled, for all of three seconds before Michael surges forward, takes his head in his hands, and looks at him with a desperate sort of relief in his eyes. Gavin swallows uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.

 

“Michael, what—” he tries, but then Michael is suddenly kissing him, wet mouth pressed tight against his own, dry lips.

Gavin pushes him off, shocked and flustered and most definitely _not liking_ the way Michael seems to be looking at him like he wants to map out every crevice of his mouth with his tongue, or worse.

 

“What the bloody hell was that?” he demands, his tone high-pitched and laced with panic as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Michael looks equally bewildered, but he takes a step forward, which makes Gavin step back just in case he’s getting any more ideas.

 

“Gavin,” Michael pleads, reaching out a hand to touch his arm, but Gavin flinches away. “Please, Gav, it’s _me._ ”

 

“I know it’s you!” Gavin points out. “But that doesn’t explain why you _kissed me_!”

 

Michael stares at him like he can’t believe Gavin’s words. The hurt is visible in his features, stirring something like guilt in Gavin’s chest, but he forces himself not to care. What he needs right now is an _explanation,_ and fast.

 

“Why the fuck not?” Michael shoots back, sounding frustrated. “Of course I’ll kiss you. We’re fucking _engaged._ ”

 

\--

 

The world, as far as Gavin is concerned, has gone completely bonkers. Consumed itself and all of its miserable contents and then proceeded to shit out the remains, which is basically the reason why he’s letting Michael into his house instead of kicking his lunatic arse out on the rainy street.

 

Michael sits in his sofa, dry and clad in the clothes Gavin had given to him earlier when he’d registered Michael was still shivering and on the brink of catching a flu. A steaming cup of coffee remains untouched on the coffee table. Gavin had set the drink down warily in front of him, thinking that maybe a strong shot of caffeine would bring the man back to his senses somewhat. Michael had resolutely ignored the drink and proceeded to sit in mutinous silence as he waited for Gavin to try and make sense of the situation at hand.

 

“Listen, you’re…” Gavin tries to think of something that would explain to Michael that he’s being utterly ridiculous and maybe a tad bit frightening with all this talk of getting engaged to each other and whatnot, but fails. “You’re saying we’re together? Like, shagging and stuff?”

 

“Look, our house got broken into by pair of psycho strangers and you’re standing there asking if we’re dating?” Michael says, shooting Gavin a glare. “We should be—”

 

“What?” Gavin interrupts, confused. “ _Our_ house? What are you—”

 

“I woke up in the middle of a park, all right? It was raining and I didn’t know how I got there, so I made my way back to our apartment. But a strange lady opened the door and told to me to get the hell off her doorstep before she calls the police. I wanted to protest, but she had this huge guy, and I think he went back for his shotgun so I ran off.” Michael leans forward in his seat and stares at Gavin earnestly. “Geoff’s house was the nearest. I…I went here because I thought I could ask for help. And then I saw the light in your shed. I thought…I thought you’d be here, on the off chance.” His voice breaks at this, like he’d feared Gavin was hurt or dead, and seeing him had been a huge weight off his chest. “ _God,_ I’m so glad you’re safe.”

 

Michael reaches for him again, but Gavin pulls away and clears his throat. Michael shrinks back, chagrined.

 

“I—” Gavin struggles to compose himself. “Michael, that’s not _our_ house,” he says, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I live here, all right? Like I’ve always been. _You_ live with Jack. Wait—” He searches around the room for his phone. “Let’s call him, yeah? See if he can pick you up.”

 

He gets his phone from his desk and dials Jack’s number, but his call goes unanswered after several rings.

 

Figures. It’s about two bloody AM and Jack must be in deep sleep by now. Gavin tries Caiti and gets the same result.

 

“I don’t live there anymore, okay?” Michael says from the couch, sounding impatient. “You’re just wasting your time with calling them, really.”

 

Gavin scowls and tries for the house line. It takes several rings but someone eventually picks up, and Gavin readies himself for a hurried explanation as to why he’s calling late at night when he’s greeted by _Michael’s_ voice, gritty with sleep and exhaustion.

 

_“What the fuck, Gav?”_

 

“Um.” He shoots a glance at Michael, who is sitting sullenly on the couch and waiting for Gavin to finish his call. “Um.”

 

_“Look, this better be fucking important, ‘cause I have a really busy day tomorrow, asshole.”_

“You’re—you’re Michael,” Gavin says faintly to the voice on the phone who sounds _exactly_ like the person in his room, and wills himself to calm down. On his couch, Michael has apparently heard what he said and turns to face him with a bewildered expression.

 

_“Yeah, I am. Gavin, is there any actual point to this call? Are you—are you fucking drunk or something?”_

“I’m—I’m fine,” Gavin sputters, his mind trying to grasp at straws.

 

The voice on the other line softens this time, sounding concerned as he asks Gavin, _“Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?”_

“No!” Gavin says quickly, before the Michael on the other line gets any ideas. “Don’t come over. Go back to sleep. I’m fine, really.”

 

_“I’m gonna fucking kick your ass tomorrow,”_ is his only reply, before the line drops dead.

 

Gavin lowers his phone to stare at Michael, who is apparently Not Really Michael, and is probably some psycho doppelganger who’s going to hack him with a knife and chop off his bits when he’s not looking, and prepares to scream for help.

 

“GEO— _MMFFFGH!_ ” He struggles in the doppelganger’s grip, who had launched himself across the room to clap a hand over Gavin’s mouth and tackle him on the floor to keep him quiet. “Mmmffffffrrrgh!” He tries to yell again, but the man’s hold is iron-strong.

 

“Gavin, fucking _stop,_ you asshole!” The not-real Michael says, sounding both scared and annoyed. “I’m not a motherfucking doppelganger, or whatever it is you’re thinking I am, all right? God, I’m not here to kill you! I fucking _love_ you, for Christ’s sake!”

 

This effectively quiets Gavin down. He turns in Michael’s grasp to stare at him in mixed shock and incredulity. He tries to say something again.

 

“What?” Michael says, straining at the difficulty of trying to keep Gavin still. Another set of indecipherable noises issue from his covered mouth, and Gavin feels Michael’s grip go slack.

 

“I’m going to trust you not to scream,” Michael says slowly, and pulls his hand away.

 

Gavin considers yelling again, but there’s a glint of _something_ in this Michael’s eyes. He supposes he might die later as a result, but forgoes this thought in favour of voicing out his most pressing concern: “You _love_ me?”

 

Above him, Michael rolls his eyes. “Fucking—” He fiddles with something in his hand, and yanks Gavin’s arm to press something small and warm into his palm. “There.”

 

Gavin stares at the simple metal band, and back up at Michael, who looks at him as if daring to challenge its existence. “You’ve got a ring,” he breathes, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.

 

“You have one, too,” says Michael, biting his lip and looking shy, for once. “Well, _my_ Gavin has one. You… _you_ obviously don’t.”

 

“This is barmy,” Gavin croaks, and shoves the ring back at Michael, who takes it and slides it into his finger with almost reverent care. “Why—how—”

 

“I don’t know either, all right?” Michael says, running a hand through his hair and looking desperate, confused. “I just…I just woke up in the middle of a fucking park and I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere and suddenly you’re _here,_ with no memory whatsoever of us and—and there’s another fucking _Michael_ in Jack’s house. I don’t…I can’t understand any of this, Gav.”

 

Gavin scrambles up into a sitting position. “Do you remember anything else? Before you woke up?”

 

Michael frowns, clearly thinking. “Well uh, we were having sex, and I was push—”

 

“Bef—before that,” Gavin chokes, not quite ready to hear about this Michael’s sexual exploits with another version of him, however real or unreal that might be. “What happened during the day?”

 

“Work, of course,” says Michael, seeming to be racking his head of the days’ events. “And then we…and then we went to this festival of sorts.”

 

Gavin remembers it all clearly: he and Michael—the one in Jack’s house right now, that is—had planned to check out the Halloween fair set up in the nearby park. It was a nice place: everyone were milling about in different colourful costumes, there had been lots of candy, and Gavin had spotted a crystal booth set up just several metres away from the face-paint stall. He’d dragged Michael to it, muttering about crystal balls and getting their fortunes told by a dodgy old lady in tattered drapes and a fake accent.

 

_Michael rolled his eyes and went along with it, and they checked out the booth only to find out there wasn’t any crystal balls, and the lady, who’s apparently not that old and was as sharp-looking as Griffon on a bad day, only sold crystal charms and ornaments. Gavin was obviously not looking into decorating his house with shiny bits of rock, so they decided to leave, but the lady grabbed Gavin’s arm and pulled him back, the expression on her face suddenly different._

_“You’ve been wanting something,” she said, staring at him as if looking into his soul. “I can see it. The crystals…the crystals can see it.”_

_“Yeah, ‘course,” Gavin shrugged, making light of the woman’s statement. “Everyone wants stuff. I’m feeling like I want a candy apple, actually.” He glanced over at Michael, who rolled his eyes again and grinned in spite of himself._

_“This is different,” the lady insisted, and pulled Gavin closer, as if afraid Michael would hear. “Here, touch the crystal.” She groped around the wooden table in front of her and picked up a wonky-looking bit of rock that Gavin suspected would take someone’s eye out, if used correctly._

_“I…what?”_

_“Put your hand around it.” She thrust the crystal into his palm and closed his hand around the item. “There, now think of what it is you want most.” There was a scary glint in her eye that made Gavin think twice about giving the rock back._

_“Uh.” Deciding to humour the woman, Gavin held the rock to his face and shook it slightly for effect. “I want…I want a Wii U?”_

_“So buy one, fucknut.” A voice sounded from his left. Michael stood there, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, a long-suffering look plastered on his features. “Christ knows you can afford it.”_

_“It’s not gonna be released ‘til November,” Gavin retorted. “I want it early.”_

_“You’re fucking stupid,” Michael shot back, a fond look on his face, and Gavin found himself grinning back at him._

_“Shut up, you love me and you know it.”_

_“You wish.”_

_“Yeah, maybe I do!” Gavin raised the rock again, brandished it triumphantly in Michael’s face. “I wish Michael would love me. There you go, you’re gonna be all over me once this rock is done.”_

_“God, you’re such a girl.” Michael huffed and took a step forward to wrench the rock from Gavin’s hands. He plonked the crystal on the woman’s table, and grabbed Gavin’s arm to steer him back to the rest of the fair. “Thanks,” he said to the lady, who just leered at him as she watched them leave._

_“Are you smitten with me yet?” Gavin turned to level Michael with a playful look. “Any chance I can get you to buy me a candy apple?”_

_“Fucking buy one, yourself.” Michael knocked him upside the head, and that had been that. Gavin had forgotten about the crystal lady, already._

 

“Th—this is bloody ridiculous,” Gavin says, staring at the Michael in front of him, horrified. “I just…I just shook a rock!”

 

“What?”

 

“The festival! We—the other Michael and I—we went there and I shook a crystal in his face!”

 

“Gavin and I were in the festival, too.” Michael still looks bewildered.

 

“I didn’t even _mean_ what I said! I was just—was just fucking around, and then…and then…” Gavin must look like he’s on the verge of breaking down, because Michael’s confused look turns into that of deep concern, and he leans forward to touch Gavin’s arm with his hand.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Gavin says, sounding hysterical, and wrenches himself away from Michael to stand up. “I’m bloody buggering _fine,_ thanks.”

 

He’s going to find that crystal lady and strangle the life out of her until she does something to turn this stupid situation back to normal, because Gavin most definitely does _not_ want Michael fucking Jones to fall in love with him, bloody crystal wishes be damned.

 

\--

 

“It’s not even like the rock made you fall in love with me!” Gavin complains that morning, as he and Michael walk out of Geoff’s yard once they see the coast is clear. “I mean, not you, _you._ The other bloke! He’s not—he’s obviously not in love, and you’re here. You’re like, the Twilight Zone version, from another universe!” Michael watches as Gavin laughs faintly at the thought.

 

“Bloody hell, I’m in a Doctor Who episode!”

 

“You’re such a fucking Brit,” Michael huffs, but he doesn’t look like he minds it much.

 

Gavin calms enough to send a thoughtful look at Michael’s direction. “Your Gavin…” he asks, quietly, “is he a lot like me? I mean, aside from the looks, of course.”

 

“Like peas in a fucking pod,” Michael says with a snort, smile turning the corners of his mouth. “You walk the same, talk the same, think the same. Well, except that, you know.”

 

_He’s shagging you, and I’m not,_ Gavin’s brain provides helpfully, and a blush blooms across his features.

 

“He must be so flipping mad, now that you’ve disappeared,” he says, trying to push the vision of another Gavin lowering himself upon Michael’s cock to back of his brain, because that will _not_ help the situation out at all.

 

Michael’s small smile turns into an unhappy press of his lips. He lets out a breath. “I can’t…I can’t imagine how it must be like for him, not having any idea about what’s happening and just knowing I’ve gone.”

 

“Which is why we have to see that crystal lady,” Gavin says, now feeling more determined than ever. He can’t just stand there when the other _him_ is suffering from heartache and all that bloody nonsense that comes with being engaged and having your fiancé suddenly vanish in your bed one fateful night. He’s still bothered that he and Michael are apparently head over bollocks for each other in another universe, but that’s beside the point. They need to fix this, and fast.

 

“Look, the fair’s open,” he points to the park they went to, yesterday. Michael looks over and his face lights up in recognition.

 

“That’s the same one, yeah.”

 

“C’mon, let’s go,” he drags Michael to the festival, searching for that familiar stall they’d stumbled upon the day before.

 

“They’re still setting up,” Michael says, looking around, and Gavin shakes his head.

 

“Much better, we can catch that woman without people buggering about.” He spots that booth, right where they’d seen it yesterday, and stalks towards it, Michael in tow.

 

“Hey, lady!” Gavin calls to the woman putting one crystal after another on the wooden table set up under the huge tent, and she looks up with an expression of mild surprise on her face.

 

“I haven’t opened the booth, yet,” she says, and turns back to arranging her stupid bloody crystals. Having had enough, Gavin slams his hand on the table, starting to get irritated.

 

“Look lady, I was here with this bloke yesterday, and you made me wish on one of your bloody rocks.” He searches around the table and spots that very same item, picks it up and thrusts it under the woman’s face. “This—you made me wish on this.”

 

The crystal lady looks down on the rock, and back at Gavin, a bit of confusion evident on her features. “Yes, I did,” she says, slowly. “Why, didn’t it work?”

 

“Didn’t it—” Gavin feels like he’s about to have a coronary, so he yanks Michael from somewhere around him and sets him in front of the woman. “You brought _him_ here, you hag!”

 

The crystal lady gives Michael one, annoyed look and then does a double take, like she’s seeing him in a wholly different plane than Gavin is. Michael swallows and looks back, uncomfortable at being on the receiving end of such a stare.

 

“What are you seeing?” he asks, and shifts under the weight of the lady’s gaze.

 

“You’re not the man who was with him yesterday,” she says, sounding quite a bit amazed.

 

“How’d you know that?” Michael asks, and the lady gestures towards the air around him as if it is a tangible, recognisable element.

 

“It’s all around you, I can see it.” She looks down at her crystals, and takes a breath. “The crystals can see it.”

 

Gavin and Michael, clearly seeing nothing, just look on in bafflement.

 

“Why are you here?” The lady addresses them again, sounding sharp. “You’ve got your wish. He loves you, doesn’t he?”

 

“I—I love a _different_ him,” Michael points out, and Gavin interprets the pang in his chest as irritation at the lack of results this confrontation is getting.

 

“Please, you have to—”

 

“But it’s still him,” the crystal lady says, levelling Michael with a curious gaze. Like she’s measuring him from the inside. “You look at him and you see your lover, yes?”

 

“I—”

 

“Destiny has granted your wish, yes,” she’s now looking at Gavin, who blanches and swallows. “It doesn’t matter how it did. You’ll have to live with it, somehow.”

 

“We _can’t,_ ” Michael says, anger now starting to lace his voice, and he leans forward to wrap a strong hand around the woman’s arm. “You see, my fiancé’s waiting for me back in our world, and I can’t leave him there, okay? So you’ll have to do something, lady, or I’ll fucking break all of your crystals until we get some sort of result.”

 

“ _You_ can’t do anything about it,” the crystal lady says, wrenching her arm from Michael’s grasp, not even looking a bit daunted. “That man, however, can.” She nods her head towards Gavin. “He’s the _wisher._ He asked for it, and now he’s gotten what he’s always wanted. He’s the one who can send you back.”

 

“I didn’t fucking mean it!” Gavin says indignantly. “I was just mucking about, yeah? And look—I don’t want _him_ falling in love with me. We’re best mates, for fuck’s sake! How is it that bloody destiny thought it wasn’t a joke when it so clearly was, if it’s that fucking powerful?”

 

“Some jokes are half-meant,” the lady says, a teasing lilt to her tone, and Gavin wants to wring her neck. Because, _no,_ he did _not_ mean what he said yesterday.

 

“You need to tell us what we can do,” Gavin says, stepping forward and giving the lady his most earnest stare. He hopes the woman is more susceptible to begging than she seems to be with open intimidation. “We have to fix this. He doesn’t belong here, we can’t let him suffer like this.”

 

“It’s entirely up to you,” says the crystal lady, meeting his gaze head on, and a small smile tugs on the corners of her mouth. “You’re the only one who can send him back to where he’s from.”

 

“I don’t—”

 

“Here.” She yanks his arm forward again, just like she did yesterday, and presses the same rock onto his palm like a keepsake. “Use this, when you feel you can let this man go.” Gavin refuses to meet Michael’s eyes, because he’s sure he hears a sudden intake of breath at his side. He can’t…he can’t explain _this_ to him, when he isn’t even sure what the bloody fuck the lady is nattering on about.

 

When Gavin takes the rock and puts it deep into the pocket of his jeans, the crystal lady smiles at them and goes back to arranging the merchandise in her stall, as if the confrontation never even happened.

 

\--

 

They find a hotel for Michael to stay in for the moment, until they figure out what to do with this sodding business about sending him back to his own realm or whatnot. Gavin _had_ tried doing it, the moment they walked away from the crystal lady and her stupid bloody stall, but nothing happened. He’d wished and wished and wished as fervently as he could, but Michael was still there the moment he opened his eyes, an increasingly unreadable expression on his face as Gavin grew even more frustrated.

 

He wonders if Michael thinks what the woman said is true. That Gavin wants _this._ That he doesn’t want this Michael to leave. He wonders how Michael feels about this, if he’s angry, or if he wants him all the same, just like the crystal lady had said.

 

He doesn’t know how to answer any of those questions, so he just settles for holing Michael up in this business hotel that is a good six blocks away from the Rooster Teeth building, away from the eyes of anyone who’d care, and tells him not to go out in case any of their mates are wandering about in the area.

 

“What if I need food?” Michael says, settling down on the bed in front of Gavin, who sighs.

 

“I’ll buy you food,” he says, starting to get a bit tired. “Look, it won’t be too hard, yeah? You just keep out of sight, until I find a way to fix this problem and we get you back to your real world.”

 

“So I’m gonna be your hot young thing,” Michael says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Gavin sputters.

 

“No, you’re not—”

 

“I totally am. _You’re_ the one who can’t send me back.” Michael stretches out on the bed in a way that makes Gavin avert his eyes, and grins. “You obviously want to fuck me, at the very least.”

 

“I don’t…aren’t you even _bothered_ by this at all?” Gavin says, sounding just a tad bit helpless, and Michael raises an eyebrow in askance. “I mean, I’m not your Gavin. It’d be like—it’d be like you’re _cheating_.”

 

“Oh, trust me, if _my_ Gavin knows I’m giving you blue balls when I could’ve been screwing you on every possible surface, at least until you’ve gotten your fill and sent me back, he’d hold out on me for a week. Or even longer.” He does sober up a little at the mention of his fiancé, but recovers himself and sits up on his elbows.

 

“Besides, what do you want me to do? Sex-starve myself when an exact same replica of my boyfriend is standing in front of me and not-so-subtly checking me out?”

 

Gavin looks away yet again, his cheeks a bright crimson. “I’m not checking you out!”

 

“God. We’re fucking _engaged,_ remember? I know what you look like when you see someone attractive.”

 

“You’re my best mate! Oh god.” Gavin turns around and plonks his arse on the bed, feeling more and more like the situation is spiralling out of control, along with his own sanity. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he says, after a moment, head in his hands.

 

He feels movement on the bed behind him, and suddenly a warm hand is on his shoulder, squeezing him there. He looks up to see Michael smiling gently at him, not a trace of lechery or anger in his eyes.

 

“I don’t blame you,” he says, quietly, and somehow that makes Gavin’s heart clench in his chest. “We can’t help how we feel for people, sometimes.”

 

“I don’t love you,” Gavin says, if only to convince himself, and Michael just leans over to pull him into his arms.

 

“But I love you,” Michael says, rubbing a hand soothingly across Gavin’s back, just the way he knows he likes it., and it stirs something up in him again, because _this_ Michael knows enough to know his little quirks. “And that brought me here to you, didn’t it?”

 

Gavin wonders, as he closes his eyes and inhales Michael’s familiar scent, if destiny is hell bent on fucking him up in the head.

 

\--

 

The next few days brought nothing to the table, as far as Gavin is concerned, except that he’s finding himself more and more distracted by the pinkness of Michael’s lips, or the warmth in his eyes, or the freckles that are strewn across his pale complexion, framed by his auburn curls.

 

He’s taken to watching him when he sees him in the office, oblivious as ever to Gavin’s plight and shouting obscenities into his mic, as well as when he visits him in the hotel, where he lays down on the bed and makes suggestive faces at him until he’s sure he can cook omelettes on his face, or at least have a good solid wank in the shower to stave off all that sexual frustration this Michael seems keen on inflicting him with.

 

Gavin doesn’t know how to reconcile those two vastly different, yet so bloody similar beings in his head, doesn’t know how to interact with them in a way that won’t betray his own feelings, so he settles for the easier task of just hanging out with one Michael and ignoring the other one for the sake of his sanity. It helps ease the burden of keeping up with identical faces and voices and gait and bloody _everything,_ and makes him feel like he can still face everyone else like his head isn’t being torn to bits by this stupid predicament he’s managed to get himself in.

 

So he starts hanging out with the other Michael more, the one who smiles at him when he visits and asks him how his day’s been, like he’s interested in knowing every little thing about Gavin and tuck them inside little Gavin-shaped boxes in his brain. He brings this Michael takeaways because he knows he likes eating a lot and Gavin can’t probably cook to save his life, gets him a subscription on Netflix so they can marathon Mad Men together at nights when he’s not so busy, and plugs his Xbox in so he wouldn’t be bored when Gavin isn’t there to give him company.

 

This Michael takes on every small comfort like Gavin’s given him much, much more, and doesn’t act like his being there is Gavin’s fault, even though it so obviously _is,_ and Gavin had been beating himself up on it for the past several days, thank you very much. This Michael acts like he _wants_ to be there for Gavin, wants to keep him company, and it claws at Gavin, makes him guilty enough to oblige the man’s every whim, until he’s pretty sure he’s keeping a spoiled, nubile young man in a hotel like he’s his—his _hot young thing._ Bloody fuck. Michael is right. He’s turning out to be some kind of dirty old codger who keeps away his lovers until he tires of them or he simply drops dead of some geriatric disease.

 

He tells this to Michael, muses the words over a half-hearted marathon of _America’s Next Top Model,_ which the man had taken a shine to in his almost one week of hotel imprisonment. Michael takes the remote and mutes the television, turns to stare at Gavin with amusement evident in his eyes.

 

“Look, for that to be true, you’d have to be fucking me,” says Michael, gesturing at his body with flourish, and Gavin flushes. “You’re _not_ fucking me, so no. You’re not a ‘dirty old codger’. Not just yet.”

 

“Do you miss him?” Gavin blurts out, because apparently he’s an idiot, and watches as Michael’s expression becomes unguarded: the tightening of his jaw, his slow intake of breath, the way his eyes slide over to his hands, which, in turn, clench into fists at his lap.

 

“I do,” Michael says, after a moment, voice quiet. “I wonder if he’s driving himself crazy looking for me, if he’s noticed I’m gone at all, or if time’s just frozen in our universe, waiting for me to come back. For you to send me back. I—I don’t know which is actually happening, so I’m stuck here, thinking.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Gavin says, and means it, because he wouldn’t wish this on Michael, on _anyone._ “I’m sorry I can’t do anything about this, because believe me, I’m _trying._ I’ve been—”

 

“Gavin,” Michael interrupts him, turning over on the bed to give him a long stare. “Nothing will happen if you keep denying it.”

 

Gavin swallows the lump in his throat, and tells himself he doesn’t know what Michael means. “Denying what?”

 

Then Michael is suddenly a lot closer, looming over him with his eyes searching Gavin’s, until they zero in on his lips.

 

“Denying this,” he says, and leans down to press his lips to Gavin’s own.

 

Gavin freezes against the kiss, clenches his hands as he wills himself not to respond to the teasing touch of Michael’s lips, at how he keeps pressing a set of kisses on his mouth like he’s romancing a bloody girl, pulling away an inch to stare into Gavin’s eyes and letting him see that he wants this, _needs_ this, and is willing to go as far as Gavin would want, would be ready for that night. He caresses Gavin’s arms, soothing the goose bumps that has appeared on his skin like he’d known they would be there, and reaches up a hand to stroke his hair.

 

Gavin wanted to die at the _ridiculousness_ of it, at the way Michael is staring at him like he’s the most precious thing in the universe, like they’re not blokes who’d probably rub off against each other at the best of times, and don’t need any further validation of their beauty or worth or whatever it is chick flicks had been teaching young ladies to expect from men these days. But then he remembers that Michael actually feels this way, that he thinks Gavin is special because they’re getting married and the man actually has _feelings_ for him, and then he’s gulping again because that sends something warm and tingly in his chest, and he knows he’s not a girl but he’s liking this anyway, liking the way Michael seems to be memorising every little detail of his face with his eyes and hands.

 

“You’re pliant,” Michael observes, his breath mingling with Gavin’s as he pauses before stealing another kiss. “Do you like me doing this?”

 

“You know I do,” Gavin tries for his tone to be grudging, but it only comes out as breathless. “ _God,_ Michael…”

 

“You’re beautiful,” Michael says again, before swooping down to capture his lips in a deeper, passionate kiss.

 

Gavin should be embarrassed, and he is, but the need to loop one arm around Michael’s neck and respond with equal parts desperation and enthusiasm is stronger than his apparent dignity, so he just moans into Michael’s mouth and entwines their tongues, arching his back off the mattress to try and press tighter against the man in front of him, in search for more contact, if that’s even possible.

 

“Gav, _clothes,_ ” Michael says, pulling away to mouth along his jaw, voice low and husky like he’s _aching_ for more skin to skin contact.

 

“What?” Gavin says dumbly, too lost in his lust to care.

 

“Clothes off,” Michael growls, and tugs insistently at the hem of Gavin’s shirt. He sits up, lets Michael pull it up and over his head, and toss it over to the side of the bed. He returns the favour, relieving Michael of his offending clothing and letting his eyes roam the delicate expanse of skin that greets his eyes. He meets Michael’s heated gaze, and swallows again.

 

“We—are we—”

 

“Do you want this?” Michael says, ever the noble knight, always making sure Gavin’s comfortable with what he’s doing, and he takes a moment to before he’s nodding and working on the bindings of his jeans.

 

“Let me.” He feels a hand close around his own and pull it away, and then Michael’s unclasping the button of his jeans then unzipping it, giving his hardness some air to breathe and grow. He lets Michael pull the trousers down and shimmy them through his legs until they’re off, until he’s only in his boxers, and that vanishes too, until Gavin’s naked as the day he was born, in front of a half-clothed Michael who seems to be feasting his eyes on the sight in front of him.

 

“I can’t be the only one starkers,” Gavin protests, and Michael quirks a grin at him.

 

“If you wish,” he says, and starts shucking off his clothes with practiced ease.

 

Gavin finds himself under Michael again, the man hovering over him like he’s taking in every detail of Gavin’s body and storing it in his memories. He can’t help but stare back, wondering if this Michael’s body is the same as the one who’s from his universe, the one who doesn’t feel this way, doesn’t look at Gavin the way this Michael does. He wonders if his own Michael would react the same way if Gavin touches his cock like _this—_ the Michael in front of him moans and arches his back—if he’s going to respond to his kisses like this, if he’s going to grind against him oh-so-deliciously, like he craves every contact with the hunger of a starved man.

 

He stows these questions to the back of his mind for later reflection, and focuses on the man writhing above him, drawing him closer until their hips fit snugly together, and their erections rub against each other in the most electrifying ways, until Gavin is screwing his eyes shut and gasping out as they ride their orgasms past the brink and back, until Michael is shuddering above him, sucking small kisses to the base of his throat like he’s marking Gavin as his own.

Gavin wonders, as they slump against each other, panting wetly and still too sensitive to move, if destiny, or everything else in the known universes for that matter, would think him selfish if he calls this Michael _his._

\--

 

“Do you have a girlfriend or something?”

 

Gavin looks up from his computer to stare at Michael, work Michael, real Michael, whatever he’d like to call him these days. Not his Michael, because that one is back in their hotel, laying around in his underwear and waiting for Gavin to get back so they can finish what they started that morning. Real Michael stares back at him, looking mystified and not-so-amused by Gavin’s silence, to which he replies with a shake of his head.

 

“No, why?”

 

“You’ve been going out earlier, and you’re _never_ in Geoff’s house,” Michael says, sounding more upset about it than he has any right to be.

 

“I have… things?” Gavin says, not exactly well-equipped with a cover story to satisfy this Michael who is suddenly a member of the Spanish Inquisition.

 

Michael rolls his eyes and huffs. “You’ve got to be fucking someone. That’s the only explanation.”

 

“Michael’s jealous because you won’t play with him anymore,” says Ray from his seat, and grins cheekily over at him. Michael scowls and swivels back to face his computer.

 

“Fine, don’t fucking tell me. See if I care.”

 

Gavin writes that off as Michael being his usual prickly self, and thinks about what he’s going to bring over to the hotel for dinner.

 

\--

 

“Look, you’d be telling me if you have a girlfriend, right?” Geoff corners him that evening and gives him his trademark I-know-we’re-not-related-and-I-kick-you-in-the-balls-sometimes-but-I-still-love-you-like-my-own-son stares, which has Gavin squirming under his gaze and scratching at the back of his head like a teenager caught sneaking out in the middle of a school night.

 

“Geoff, um, maybe now’s not the right time?” He tries, because he has to at _least_ tell Geoff that.

 

Geoff just grins and pats him on the shoulder in a companionable way, like he’s proud of Gavin for actually bagging a chick. “Always knew you had it in you.”

 

“I’ve had girlfriends before,” Gavin points out, “and one night stands?” Because really, treating him like he’s in the cast of Inbetweeners is totally not fair when he’s gotten his fair share of heterosexual lay.

 

Geoff just nods like he’s being particularly precocious, and cocks his head towards the men still packing their things inside the office. “We’re going out for drinks tonight. You wanna come?”

 

“No thanks,” Gavin says, declining the offer like he’s done the last few, because there’s someone waiting for him in that little hotel room tucked in the middle of town. “Not in the mood for bevs tonight, to be honest.”

 

“I’m going home,” Michael announces from the office, and stalks past Geoff and Gavin until he’s out of sight, leaving the rest of the men in baffled silence.

 

“I think he’s really upset,” Ray says, coming up to stand beside Gavin and looking thoughtful. “You _have_ been ignoring him, you know.”

 

Gavin looks up, and searches the rest of the men for confirmation. Everyone, even Ryan, voices their assent.

 

“You should try and make it up to him,” Ray says again, trying to be helpful, but only succeeds in giving Gavin a strong headache.

 

\--

 

“Let’s go out,” Gavin proclaims as soon as he drops into Michael’s hotel, because getting headaches apparently makes him rebellious enough to parade his “hot young thing” around to all and sundry on a weekend night. Who the fuck does _that_ Michael think he’s kidding, prancing about like he owned Gavin and had to be informed of his every single dalliance like they’re not both, grown, independent men? It doesn’t matter that Gavin can’t really tell him, or that he’d probably die of a heart attack if he knew, it’s none of his business who Gavin screwed (or, technically, rubbed himself off against, because they still haven’t done _that_ ) so he can go fuck himself, and that’s _that_.

 

“You seem angry,” his Michael comments from the bed, but he stands up and ambles over to greet him with a kiss all the same.

 

“ _You’re_ being a prick,” Gavin grumbles, and Michael raises one eyebrow at him.

 

“I mean, other you,” Gavin amends, and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “He’s been needling me at work, asking me if I’ve been shagging someone, and then got angry because I won’t tell him.”

 

“He seems jealous,” Michael says, a knowing glint in his eyes, and Gavin glares at him sullenly.

 

“Not you, too,” he groans, and walks over to flop down on the bed.

 

“Has Ray been talking again?” He feels the bed dip beside him, and he nods, face smushed onto the plush sheets.

 

“If Ray calls it, then I’m pretty sure this Michael likes you, or at least doesn’t relish the idea of other people doing so,” his Michael says, running a hand up and down Gavin’s spine.

 

“I don’t want him to,” Gavin says petulantly, like he’s a child telling his mother about the kid who pulled his proverbial pigtails at the school yard. “I want him to bugger off.”

 

“Well, he can’t, because you like him back,” says Michael patiently, and _no,_ Gavin most certainly does not. Well, not _that_ Michael, anyway.

 

“I like _you_ ,” he points out to Michael, who just chuckles.

 

“I know you do,” he says, sounding fond. “But he’s _me._ We’re all the same in the end, so if you like me, that means you like him too.”

 

“But he’s…he’s insufferable!” Gavin turns to stare at the ceiling, a troubled frown marring his features. “He’s a git who wouldn’t let—”

 

“You know, before I came, you used to think the world of him.” Michael’s quiet voice interrupts his burgeoning tirade, and Gavin falls silent. Because he knows this to be true.

 

“He’s not…” he takes a breath. “He’s not _you._ ”

 

_He doesn’t feel the way you do about me,_ Gavin wants to say, but his dignity prevents him from doing so.

 

There’s a moment of silence before Michael speaks again, and this time a hand is stroking lightly through his hair, making him relax against the soft touch.

 

“He’s getting there,” Michael says, sounding like he knows something Gavin doesn’t. “You’re _both_ getting there.”

 

\--

 

Gavin had still decided to be obnoxious about his secret, clandestine affair with an otherworldly Michael, which leads the both of them into the moonlit streets of downtown, walking hand-in-hand and taking in the sights like they’d never seen them before, like Gavin hadn’t been in the exact same place with Michael, only they weren’t pausing every five seconds to kiss and giggle at each other like drunken idiots back then, never mind that they find themselves on the receiving end of strange looks at every turn in the corner. Gavin just shrugs it off and pulls Michael into a crowded bar, intent on getting the both of them absolutely pissed that night before they could stumble back into their hotel and try to have passionate, drunken sex, then completely pass out on the bed snoring like idiots, as good couples ought to do once in a while.

 

Michael laughs and lets himself be steered into the establishment, eyes bright as he revels in the joy of being able to go out and have fun again, which he hadn’t been able to do in the while he’s been stuck in Gavin’s world. Gavin wants to make up for it, wants to make the night extra special, so he orders two large pints of beer for him and Michael as soon as he walks to the bar.

 

“Coming right up,” the bartender says, a pretty young lady who would catch Gavin’s eye if he isn’t already besotted with the man sitting beside him, resting his chin on his shoulder and playing with the hem of his shirt with the air of someone who’s so used to touching him, to feeling his presence, to marking him as his through simple gestures alone.

 

He’s about to turn and give Michael an idea of how much he appreciates these little touches, when someone taps him on the shoulder, hard and intent.

 

“Wha—” he swivels in his chair, about to give the intruder a piece of his mind, when his eyes meet the surprised faces of Ray and Geoff.

 

“Gavin, what are you doing here?” Geoff says, sounding nonplussed. He’s holding a couple of beer pints in his hand, and Ray is taking in the scene with the look of a cat about to pounce on his cornered prey. “And is that—is that _Michael_?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wanted this, that’s why you’re here,” Gavin says, feeling himself grow more and more upset by the second, and wrenches his arm away from Michael’s grasp. “Bloody destiny thinks I’m in-love with you, or—or real Michael, whichever it is, and you’re not helping by being so bloody nice and attractive and fucking great in bed and I don’t know if I can ever let you go, all right!” He watches Michael’s eyes grow wider at that, and swallows the pang of fear and embarrassment that wells up his chest.
> 
> “I don’t know how I can let you go after this,” Gavin confesses, hands curling into fists as he bites his lip and looks down, at a loss on how to explain how he feels about this bloody disaster of a situation. “Because you’re already in-love with me, and real Michael isn’t.”
> 
> Magical Realism!AU; In which Michael Jones has a doppelganger who is really Him-from-Another-Universe and who is also, as it turns out, head-over-bollocks for one Gavin David Free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I finally crawled out of my hole and finished this. I hope you guys enjoy the final part!

 

_“And is that—is that Michael?”_

Gavin shoots up from his seat like he’s been electrocuted and pulls away from Michael’s hold, walks over to Geoff and Ray like he wasn’t just cuddling with his co-worker at the bar. He smiles at them with what he hopes is an innocent expression on his face as he speaks:

 

“We uh… we bumped into each other on the way.”

 

“Really?” Geoff furrows his brow as he adjusts the weight of the beer pints in his hands. “I thought you guys weren’t coming.”

 

Well, they weren’t _supposed to,_ but it was just Gavin’s bloody luck that their friends chose this night to have their drinks further into downtown rather than their usual haunt near the office. He tries to figure out a reasonable explanation for their presence and fails, so he settles for giving Michael a helpless glance. Michael rolls his eyes as he stands up from the bar stool.

 

“We changed our minds, what the fuck?” He grabs the beer Gavin had ordered from the counter and pushes his way to them. He seems annoyed by Ray and Geoff’s intrusion, but he’s weathering the situation for Gavin’s sake. “Are we drinking or not?”

 

Geoff looks at them for one painful moment, then shakes his head and gives them a _“whatever, man”_ shrug before he turns and leads the group to a booth at the far corner of the room. Gavin sighs and follows, shooting Michael a grateful glance, which the man returns with a smile. Ryan and Jack are already settled in their seats, deep in conversation over their own pints of beer. They look up with expressions of mild surprise as they see Michael and Gavin approach behind Geoff and Ray.

 

“You made it,” Jack says pleasantly, scooting to the side to give them enough space to sit.

 

“I thought you guys were fighting, or something?” Ryan asks, and Gavin freezes in his seat as everyone turns to give him and Michael expectant looks.

 

“We…made up?” Gavin tries, faintly.

 

“Yeah, you said you were hanging out with your girlfriend tonight,” Ray puts in, raising an eyebrow at him. Michael, who is just settling into his seat, snorts at the statement.

 

“Gavin doesn’t have a girlfriend,” he says, shaking his head like the notion is entirely unheard of and takes a swig of his beer. Gavin turns to give him an offended look.

 

“I _can_ have a girlfriend, thanks,” he says reproachfully, to which Michael replies by sending him a _“do you really want to go there”_ look over the rim of his beer pint.

 

Gavin quiets down at that and looks away to focus on the swirly foam on top of his own drink, trying very hard not to blush under everyone else’s stares.

 

Thankfully, their friends seem to accept their explanation (or complete lack thereof), and the conversation shifts to other, less dangerous topics after a couple of minutes. Ray, however, seems intent on sending questioning looks their way throughout the entire evening, which terrifies Gavin to no end, because the man is nothing but _persistent_ when he senses something is amiss _._

 

Michael seems unaware of Ray’s shrewd staring, however, because he lets his guard down as soon as he realises their friends are pretty much the same as the ones in his own universe, and proceeds to engage Geoff in an enthusiastic conversation about Battlefield 4. Gavin, who wills himself to relax by talking with Jack and Ryan about their latest Let’s Build, trails off as he feels Michael shift closer and wrap a warm arm around his shoulders. He’s describing a particularly difficult part of the gameplay to Geoff, who barely blinks at the sudden affectionate gesture as he drinks from his own pint.

 

 _Don’t get your knickers in a twist, this is **not** weird. Real Michael does it all the time. It’s not weird at all. _Gavin tries to calm himself down, and instead succeeds in spilling quite a bit of his drink onto the table and down his front. “Oh, bloody hell.”

 

“Gav, you idiot,” Michael says, sighing and chuckling gently as he turns from Geoff to grab and few napkins and start dabbing at Gavin’s lap, much to his horror. Gavin knows he’s used to doing this, because in his world they’re _engaged_ and probably are all over each other every second of the day, but in here they’re _not,_ which means he’ll have to tone the concerned boyfriend act down before their friends start to get the wrong idea.

 

Speaking of which, Gavin looks up to find everyone staring at them in bewilderment, and sputters.

 

“M—Michael! I can do it,” he squeaks, reaching down to pull the napkin away from Michael’s wandering hands.

 

“Shut up, you’re all wet,” Michael says dismissively, focusing on the spreading stains on Gavin’s jeans and oblivious to their friends’ stares. “What about your underwear? Did you get it wet, too? Do we have to—”

 

“Whoa, get a room, would you?” Jack says, chuckling a bit uncomfortably. Michael looks up at that, his hand on Gavin’s lap freezing when he realises that they’re not actually fiancés in this universe, and that they’re making quite a spectacle of themselves in front of their co-workers, who are still looking on in bafflement.

 

“Uh,” he says, a bit dumbly, and pulls away from Gavin, who is about ten seconds away from having a nervous breakdown. “Sorry, got carried away, is all.”

 

Gavin tries very hard to ignore Ray, who is smirking at them from his own corner of the booth, obviously getting quite a _lot_ from Michael’s strange actions that evening. He deeply regrets bringing Michael out tonight, wishes that he’d just settled for silently seething in the hotel room, away from everyone else’s prying eyes.

 

Now he’s going to have to deal with more questions than he would be able to answer, as if the real Michael’s bitching isn’t enough already.

 

Resisting the urge to groan and knock his head on the table, Gavin drinks up what remains of his beer, hoping the ground would just open up and swallow him whole.

 

\--

 

“That was…interesting,” Michael remarks as they stand outside the pub an hour later. Gavin had begged to be let off early, claiming that his underwear is indeed _soaked through_ and that he’s gonna have to take a shower or something, or else risk having balls that reek of beer. Geoff had sighed and offered to take him home, but Gavin had shaken his head and told the rest of the gang that Michael was driving him, and tried vainly to ignore the questioning looks (and smirks) that followed his statement.

 

“It was _horrifying_ ,” Gavin says unhappily, running a hand through his hair and heaving out a sigh. “When the hell did they start drinking here, anyway? Bloody fuck.”

 

“Well, it is a nice bar,” Michael offers, giving him a tentative smile, as if testing his reaction. Gavin glares back at him.

 

“You didn’t have to act so…boyfriend-y, you know,” he says, making a wiggly gesture with his hand to illustrate his point.

 

“Boyfriend-y?” Michael repeats, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

 

“They’re gonna be asking more questions! Asking why you were basically all over me and why we left early and stuff. I don’t know how long I can keep lying to everyone.” Gavin shakes his head in frustration, and starts walking back in the direction of their hotel.

 

“I’m sorry,” says Michael, jogging up beside him and sounding apologetic, as if Gavin would be able to stay mad at him, anyway. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, was I?”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Gavin says after a moment, his voice quiet. “I’m the one who messed everything up, yeah? This is all on me.”

 

“Gavin, listen,” he feels Michael’s grip on his arm, urging him to stop. He turns to give Michael a _“what, now?”_ look.

 

“You didn’t want any of this, either,” says Michael, voice firm, and why is he being so nice to Gavin? If anyone deserves to be mad at the situation, it’s him, and he’s been nothing but patient with Gavin all this time, like he’s not stuck in an alternate universe with no idea how and when he’d be able to get back to his own fiancé. It’s beginning to drive him up the wall, this…this complete lack of blame, because Gavin’s definitely beating himself up with all that’s happening around him. None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for his own, stupid-arse _feelings_.

 

“I _wanted_ this, that’s why you’re here,” Gavin says, feeling himself grow more and more upset by the second, and wrenches his arm away from Michael’s grasp. “Bloody destiny thinks I’m in-love with you, or—or real Michael, whichever it is, and you’re not helping by being so bloody _nice_ and _attractive_ and fucking _great in bed_ and I don’t know if I can ever let you go, all right!” He watches Michael’s eyes grow wider at that, and swallows the pang of fear and embarrassment that wells up his chest.

 

“I don’t _know_ how I can let you go after this,” Gavin confesses, hands curling into fists as he bites his lip and looks down, at a loss on how to explain how he feels about this bloody disaster of a situation. “Because you’re already in-love with me, and real Michael _isn’t._ If you…if you leave, I won’t be able to bear it, yeah? I can’t look at him in the eye again and not think about how we were together. It would fucking tear me apart, all right? I wouldn’t—”

 

“Gavin—” Michael tries, reaching out for him again, but Gavin moves away, feeling like he’s had enough of just bloody _everything_ tonight. He just wants to go home and be alone and wallow in his sadness and self-deprecation because, _god,_ this Michael probably thinks he’s needy and selfish because it’s not _him_ he wants, is he? Michael’s basically said the same thing to the crystal lady. He’s probably doing all this and humouring Gavin’s wretched _feelings_ because he desperately wants to go back to _that_ person who knows him and understands him and is going to marry him.

 

Gavin has never been more jealous of anyone in his entire life.

 

Determined to get out of Michael’s sight before he does something completely mortifying like break into tears, Gavin turns on his heel and unceremoniously flags an approaching taxi.

 

“Where are you going?” Michael demands, marching over to grab his arm before he could get into the car. Gavin pulls away, refusing to meet his eyes.

 

“Please just…just go back to your hotel, all right? I need to be alone for tonight.” He doesn’t wait for Michael’s reply, just dives into the taxi and slams the door shut, determinedly refusing to look up through the windows and see the confused, hurt expression on the man’s face.

 

\--

 

When Gavin’s taxi pulls up at Geoff’s house about half an hour later, _real_ Michael is waiting for him, shivering on the steps of the front porch.

 

Gavin wonders if he should tell the driver to do a couple more circles around the block until this Michael leaves, but apparently the man has already seen him, standing up from the porch and looking at the car expectantly.

 

 _Bloody buggering hell._ He pays the driver and climbs out of the taxi, quietly asking the gods why they seem to just really have it in for him lately.

 

“Hey,” real Michael greets with a shy mumble when Gavin reluctantly approaches from the street. “I didn’t think you were going out.”

 

“Why are you here?” Gavin blurts out, too annoyed and strung-out to consider beating around the bush. Besides, it’s also this Michael’s fault why he’s in a much deeper mess right now.

 

Michael looks stung at that, but he swallows and nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. “I, uh, I wanted to apologise. For being a huge dick.”

 

“Apology accepted,” Gavin says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Now, I’m sorry but I’m really tired, so I should probably—”

 

“Look, Gavin, I want to talk to you, all right?” Michael looks up at that, looking really embarrassed yet determined all the same. “I don’t know why you’re being so—so _cold_ to me lately. I need to know if I’ve done something wrong. You’d tell me, right?”

 

“I’m not—I’m not being cold,” Gavin stutters out, because he actually has been, but he didn’t expect Michael would call him out on it. The man gives him a pointed glare, and Gavin looks away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles stubbornly.

 

“Gavin, if this is about me asking if you’re dating someone—”

 

“I’m _not,_ ” Gavin shoots back. “Not that it’s any of your business if I actually am.”

 

Michael lets out an incredulous huff. “Oh, really? What’s that fucking mark on your neck, then?”

 

He raises his eyebrow and stares pointedly at a spot on Gavin’s neck. Gavin puts out a hand to cover the hickey _his_ Michael had given to him just before they left the hotel. A gesture which is laughably useless, by the way, because real Michael has already seen it, and only serves to prove the point that he’s having a sordid affair behind everyone else’s back.

 

“Look, I understand if you want to keep this a secret, okay? I won’t bitch about it anymore. I just…” Michael lets out a sigh, and wraps his arms protectively around himself, a blush tinging his cheeks as he turns his stare to a spot on the grass beside Gavin. “I just _wish_ we wouldn’t grow apart because of it. Just a couple of weeks ago we were basically inseparable, but now you barely talk to me. And don’t say you don’t know it,” he snaps when Gavin opens his mouth to speak, “because I can _tell._ Everyone can fucking tell. You’re not exactly being subtle at this whole avoiding me thing, you know?”

 

“I wasn’t—” Gavin protests, but Michael’s glare quiets him down.

 

“You _were_ avoiding me,” he insists. “You’re avoiding me _now._ I have to know _why._ ”

 

Gavin desperately racks his head for any explanation that wouldn’t involve telling this Michael about the whole business of having another version of him in this universe, and the added shock factor of _sleeping_ with the guy in question. The man would probably wring his neck and _then_ die of a heart attack, and Gavin doesn’t really want to complicate the situation much more than how it is now, thank you very much.

 

So he just settles for a half-hearted shrug, knowing fully-well that Michael wouldn’t buy the gesture one bit. He doesn’t meet the man’s concerned look.

 

Gavin hears an angry huff of breath, and suddenly Michael is talking, voice sharp and angry: “If you’re doing this because Ray’s gotten it in your head somehow that I’m _jealous_ or whatever—”

 

“Are you?” He interjects, looking up to see an anxious, unguarded expression cross Michael’s features before the man schools them into something that looks more like indignation.

 

“What the fuck, Gav?”

 

“Well, are you?” Gavin spits out, and the headache he’d been suffering with all night has come back full-force, making him take a step forward and aim a challenging glare at Michael, who swallows and steps back. “ _You’re_ the one who brought it up, I wasn’t even telling anyone about him, was I? _You’re_ the one who’s here on my bloody porch, poking your head in my business and asking about my bloody hickeys—”

 

“ _Him?”_ Michael has gone a perfect shade of puce, his eyes jutting out in shock at Gavin’s— _oh god._ It takes him a split second to realise that he’s let something slip.

 

“That is, er—”

 

“You’re fucking a _dude?!”_ Michael stares at Gavin for a good five seconds, in which Gavin debates on whether he’d get away with barrelling past the man and holing himself up in his room for the next several months until they forget about this encounter entirely. “Is that why you’ve been so secretive about this? Because you don’t want people knowing you’re gay?”

 

“Piss off,” Gavin growls, and decides that Michael can go fuck himself for all he cares. He needs to escape the man for the sake of his own sanity. Gavin stalks past him and across the lawn, aiming for the entrance to his room, but a strong grip stops him from effectively storming off.

 

“Gavin—”

 

“Seriously, Michael, what the bloody _fuck_ is it to you?” He says, turning around to face Michael and hoping that his features don’t betray the humiliation coursing through his veins. “I’ve decided I liked being buggered, yeah? Or maybe it’s the other way around. Big. Fucking. Deal.” He wrenches his arm off Michael’s grasp and walks away again.

 

“Gavin!” Michael repeats his name, his voice pleading this time.

 

“Go home, Michael!”

 

“I—I can’t.”

 

This effectively stops Gavin in his tracks, and he takes a breath, closing his eyes in preparation for whatever bitter, hurtful statement the man’s got for him this time. _You’ll live, Free. You know how he is. He can say whatever he wants, but you’ll get over it. Eventually._

Michael, apparently seeing that he’s not going to flee anytime soon, chooses to speak again. Gavin opens his eyes when he realises that Michael’s voice is shuddering and uncertain. “This…I can’t just _ignore_ this, Gavin.”

 

He bristles at that. “Well, don’t get your knickers in a twist about it, yeah? It’s not like I’m gonna—”

 

“What if I wanted you to?” Michael cuts him off, sounding fierce yet hesitant at the same time, like he’s taking a decisive step into the unknown.

 

Gavin turns around at that, staring at Michael with a mixture of hope and confusion. “What?”

 

Michael speaks the next few words slowly, like he’s having difficulty working them out of his system: “What if… what if I want you? What if we… we tried to…”

 

Gavin lets out a strangled laugh at that, because this is really not the time for Michael to be making jokes about this sort of thing. “Listen, Michael—”

 

But that’s all he gets to say, because suddenly Michael’s _there_ , lips pressed against his determinedly, and Gavin can feel him shaking yet refusing to let him go, like he’s not going to move unless Gavin responds favourably…or pushes him off in disgust.

 

Gavin can’t do anything though. He just stands there, freezing into the kiss and his mind going blank aside from the constant stream of _Michael’s kissing me, **real** Michael’s kissing me, he’s got his bloody lips on mine, he’s—_

He’s so wrapped up in his own panicked thoughts that he doesn’t hear the sound of another taxi pulling in front of the house, and the vehicle door opening, followed by loud, thudding footsteps across the grassy lawn.

 

“Get your fucking hands off him!”

 

This breaks into Gavin’s kiss-induced stupor, however, and he wrenches away from Michael’s lips only to see— _oh god. **Oh god.**_

****

Only to see an angrier-looking Michael Jones several metres behind the real one, stalking towards them like he’s about to wheel his twin around and punch the daylights out of him.

 

“Michael!” He chokes out, trying to not have a hysterical breakdown at the thought of real Michael finding out about his secret, who’s about two seconds away into coming across his field of vision.

 

The man directly in front of him looks incredibly bewildered and indignant at the intrusion, and he turns around to see the exact, same replica of himself jogging into a halt in front of them with an equal look of befuddlement plastered across his features.

 

Michael-from-Another-Universe stares at the spectacle in front of him, his face colouring as he visibly realises what he’s just intruded into. “ _Fuck,_ I _—_ Gavin, I didn’t know—”

 

“What—” Gavin feels his blood freeze over when he hears Real Michael’s voice, high-pitched and baffled as he takes a step back and almost crashes into him. “You’re—you look exactly like—”

 

Real Michael turns around to look at him, as if pleading Gavin to wrestle some semblance of coherency back into his head. “G—Gavin?”

 

Gavin takes a shuddering breath, knowing that all colour has flushed from his face, and fails to keep his voice from wavering. “Michael, I…”

 

Someone clears his throat behind them, and he looks past Real Michael’s shoulder to see _his_ Michael biting his lip with a grave expression.

 

“We should talk about this in your room,” he says, voice calmer this time, and it makes Gavin thankful somehow, that at least someone’s got himself sorted out enough to take matters into his own hands. “Let’s not wait until Geoff gets here and sees us, all right?”

 

Gavin nods, throat constricting as he sees a muscle twitch in the real Michael’s jaw, the man apparently not liking being told what to do even by someone who’s a spitting image of him.

 

He clenches his hands into fists and leads the way into his room, heart beating a tattoo against his chest.

 

\--

 

“You’re… you’re fucking kidding me, right?” is all the real Michael can say, once Gavin is done relaying the course of events for the past couple of weeks. The other Michael—his Michael—stands on the other side of the room near Gavin’s bed, leaning against the wall as he keeps an eye on his twin, who is sitting white-knuckled on the sofa.

 

“I—I wish I was,” Gavin says, letting out a huff of humourless laughter. Real Michael refuses to meet his eyes, choosing instead to tug his beanie from his curls and wrench the woollen material in his shaking fists.

 

“…The crystal,” he says eventually, after Gavin is sure he’s about five seconds away from being socked in the face like an utter creep. “It—it doesn’t work?”

 

“He already told you, it doesn’t,” says an irritated voice from behind Gavin. Real Michael winces at the sound of his own voice speaking back at him, and proceeds to silently mutilate the poor piece of cloth in his hands. Gavin eyes the man warily and turns to give the other Michael a quelling look.

 

“What?” his Michael responds, shrugging and not looking at all apologetic. “He’s got all the information he needs, the only thing left is for him to actually start _believing_ it.”

 

“It’s a lot to take in, all right?” Real Michael snaps from the sofa, looking up to give Gavin and his doppelganger a glare. “Forgive me for trying to actually _process_ things, but I’m afraid I have to, if I want to stay sane!”

 

“I’m really sorry, Michael,” Gavin mumbles, aware that he sounds distressed and pathetic from his own corner of the room.

 

“Don’t be,” real Michael says quietly, but his expression doesn’t look forgiving enough to soothe the bitter pang in Gavin’s chest. “You… you didn’t want any of this to happen either.”

 

“That’s what I keep telling him,” says other Michael with a sigh, and he pushes off the wall to walk over to where Gavin stands. “Doesn’t wanna listen to me. Maybe you can talk some sense to him? When you’re done _processing_ stuff, that is.”

 

Gavin watches nervously as the two Michaels resume glaring at each other, and decides that he should probably try and put an end to this little meeting before the entire situation dissolves into a pissing contest. He turns to his Michael, bites his lip and tries to ask quietly, “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your hotel? It’s getting a bit late, and Geoff might...”

 

He tries to ignore the flash of hurt that passes through the man’s eyes before it’s replaced by something that looks more like understanding, and his Michael nods. “Yeah, I probably should be going. You two need to talk this out, anyway.”

 

He gives Gavin a small, playful grin, the one he knows Gavin is particularly weak against, and leans forward to plant a soft kiss against his lips. His Michael looks smug and knowing as he pulls away from Gavin’s blushing face, and there is a stifled sound of choking coming from the sofa.

 

“Talk to you tomorrow,” he says, still smiling, and ambles out of the room to leave Gavin beet-red and alone with the real Michael, who is probably traumatised by his doppelganger’s sudden affectionate display.

 

Gavin takes a few moments to compose himself before he turns to find Michael sitting there with an unreadable expression on his features.

 

“I…” Gavin begins, but is cut off when Michael finally decides to speak.

 

“So it’s like that with you, huh?” He says, and it’s hard to interpret the sound of his voice, it being devoid of anything Gavin is expecting from him. No trace of anger, confusion, disgust, or anything at all. It’s just a quiet question, and it catches Gavin off guard more than any sudden burst of emotion ever will.

 

“Y—yeah,” he says, swallowing and casting his eyes down to the floor, blush back full force. “I…we…”

 

“So when you said you were fucking a dude—that was him? You were fucking him?” There it is again, that utter lack of emotion, and Gavin wants nothing more than to hide from it, to crawl into his bed and wish it all away and wake up to find everything has gone back to how it was before this whole bout of insanity had started. But Michael is staring up at him, less unsure and more in control now that his doppelganger is nowhere to be seen, and Gavin knows he’s going to get all the answers he wants before the night is over.

 

“Yeah,” Gavin says again, with a resigned sigh. “We…we fuck.”

 

“Is it because you need to get it out of your head?” His eyes shoot up to see Michael still staring at him, face betraying nothing. “Get him— _me_ —out of your head? So he can go back to where he’s from and things can be… be normal again?”

 

Gavin chokes around his words, because he knows Michael can _tell_ every little lie he’s going to say about this for the next several hours. “That’s—that’s sort of the plan, yeah.”

 

“What are you gonna do when he’s gone?” Michael asks, voice sharp. “Because you can’t pretend none of this ever happened. That’s what you’re planning on doing, isn’t it?” And when he looks at Gavin again, his eyes are flashing, his plans on making the conversation as emotionless as possible now gone. It makes Gavin take a step back, surprised at his sudden vehemence.

 

“I really don’t…”

 

“Shut up, Gavin, of course you do.” Michael stands up from his seat and marches over to him, looking angrier than Gavin had ever seen him in _years._ “You wanted to keep this from me! Just… just fuck around with a man who apparently looks _exactly_ like me until he vanishes into thin air, and then go along with your life like it never happened! What the fuck, Gav?!”

 

“God, you’re so bloody thick, aren’t you?” Gavin shouts back, incensed at the accusations being thrown at his face. “How do you think telling you about it would go? ‘Oh, hi Michael, I accidentally managed to call your twin from another universe into existence because apparently destiny thinks I’m bloody in-love with you, and now he has to bugger me senseless until we figure out a way to bring him back! How was breakfast, by the way?’ Yeah, that would go over really well, wouldn’t it?” He stops and takes a breath, panting and quite horrified at his sudden outburst. Because, _oh god,_ he didn’t say _that_ part out loud, did he?

 

Michael is staring back at him, looking just as mortified as he feels, and Gavin really wants the ground to just swallow him whole.

 

“That—that is—”

 

“You’re such a fucking idiot!” And with that single, heartfelt declaration, Michael steps forward and grabs Gavin’s face to crush their lips together in a searing kiss.

 

“Mrrrklffgh!” Gavin tries, flailing his arms around helplessly as Michael continues to move his mouth over his own, taking advantage of his slack-jawed expression to start biting onto his bottom lip invitingly. It effectively renders all of Gavin’s protests into mush, and he finds his eyes fluttering shut as he surrenders, kissing back with equal fervour and gasping when Michael sucks his abused lip into his mouth.

 

“You…” Michael growls into his mouth, and Gavin opens his eyes blearily to see the man looking at him with a mixture of frustration and sheer, unbridled _lust._ Michael pulls away and inch and moves to kiss along Gavin’s jaw, dragging his wet lips against his sensitive skin and making him breathe out in harsh pants. “You’re really fucking clueless, sometimes.”

 

Gavin doesn’t know how he could respond to that without embarrassing himself, so he just settles for keening high in his throat when Michael finds that spot below his ear and _licks. Oh, bloody **hell**._

“You like that?” Michael whispers against his skin, sounding too smug for Gavin’s comfort, and continues to flick his tongue until Gavin is a whimpering mess in his arms. “We could’ve been doing this a long time ago, Gav. If you’d have just told me, we could’ve—”

 

“I didn’t _know,_ all right?” Gavin says, voice strangled as Michael resumes mouthing over his neck. “I didn’t realise it until he…you…”

 

“Well, that’s one thing to thank him for, I guess,” Michael says, his voice low and dark, as if he doesn’t like Gavin mentioning the other him, _his_ Michael, as he’d affectionately called the man in his head for the past couple of weeks. “But I hope he knows,” Michael adds, manhandling Gavin until the back of his knees meets the bed and he feels himself being pushed down on it, “that you’re _mine._ That I’m never letting you go back to him, after all this.”

 

“He’s just…” Gavin says, trying to defend the man who’d been so loving, so easy to be with, even though he’s been forcibly dragged into another world without the person he loved in it. “He just wanted to make this work. He loves me, but only because he’s in love with another _me,_ in a different world. You can’t hold that against him.”

 

Michael considers him for a moment, standing over the bed and looming over Gavin like he’d been ready to pounce, but Gavin’s words had succeeded in holding him back. “And you? What do you feel about him?”

 

“You just can’t—”

 

“Fucking answer me, Gav.”

 

“I love him,” Gavin says, after a beat, raising his eyes to meet Michael’s stricken gaze head on. “He…he’s _you,_ Michael. And he was already in-love with me. Already knew me in ways I didn’t even know myself. It had just been so…easy.”

 

There is another low growl and, before he’s had a chance to register it, Michael is already mounting him on the bed, pushing him back until they’re a hair’s breadth apart again, his angry stare boring into Gavin’s own. “And you didn’t stop to think that maybe I _was_ , too?”

 

“Wh—what?” is the only thing Gavin can say in response, too dumbstruck at the sudden admission.

 

“Fucking idiot!” And then Michael’s lips is on his again, more passionate this time, like he’s trying to prove a point, and Gavin can’t help but moan in response as Michael’s tongue slipped out to caress his own in slow, fervent strokes. He feels himself being pressed against the firm mattress as Michael bears heavily down on him, slotting their bodies together until there’s practically no space in between.

 

“One word, Gavin,” he hears Michael say through the haze of messy kisses and ragged breaths. “You could’ve just said one word, and I’d be _yours._ More than he could ever be.” And that’s all it takes for Gavin to lose every bit of sense, for him to start rutting wantonly against Michael as they move to hurriedly shuck off any barrier of clothing between their skins.

 

It’s only a matter of moments before they’re both naked, and Michael is staring down at Gavin, eyes wide with the wonder of someone about to take a leap into the unknown. It’s Gavin’s job to be comforting this time, and he reaches up a hand to touch Michael’s face, to cup the back of his head and pull him down into a soft kiss.

 

“Already yours, Michael,” he whispers the man’s own words against his lips, arching his hips forward so that their cocks rub together in that delicious, aching friction, and he feels Michael’s breath hitch. “Just need you to take me. I’m already _yours._ ”

 

He moves and angles his hips upwards so that he feels the head of Michael’s cock slip across his shaft and balls, drag _frustratingly_ against the soft, sensitive skin of his taint, until the smooth, wet tip catches against the furled pucker of his hole. Gavin watches as Michael’s eyes widen at his actions, as he realises what exactly Gavin is asking him to do.

 

“You’re…”

 

“ _Yours,_ Michael.”

 

Michael lets out a surprised breath. “You never did it.”

 

“Never got the chance to,” Gavin admits, biting his lip and looking down, embarrassed all of a sudden.

 

“ _God,_ Gav,” Michael groans out, and Gavin finds himself on the receiving end of another breathless kiss, and another, and _another,_ until and the only thing left is their sheer, blinding, harrowing _need._

It’s the only thing they know that night, and when Michael buries himself into Gavin, sheathes his cock into the tight, wet heat as Gavin gasps and undulates beneath him, he feels the man lean down and press his lips on the mark his twin had left, right on heated skin of Gavin’s throat.

 

It’s intimate and possessive, this act of claiming, and Gavin feels the ever-present ache in his chest slowly disintegrate at the gesture. He _keens,_ high and unbidden, offering himself up to Michael, urging the man to _take,_ just take all he can get because this is everything Gavin could ever want. And Michael does, thrusting into Gavin and sucking on that spot like he’s marking his territory, telling the gods— _destiny—_ to fuck themselves because nothing they can ever do can change the fact that this Gavin is _his_ and his alone.

 

Gavin loses himself to the feeling of riding over the brink, to the warmth of Michael’s spend flooding inside him, and doesn’t notice the faint, ethereal glow of the crystal from where it sits, alone and forgotten, on the desk at the far side of his room.

 

\--

 

The sound of loud knocking wrenches Gavin from his deep sleep, and the first thing he notes is the tightening grip of the arms wrapped around him as his companion snuggled closer to his back, grumbling incoherently at the irritating noise issuing from outside Gavin’s bedroom door.

 

“Whuh…” Gavin says unintelligibly, and opens his eyes to find Michael sitting up and glaring at the general direction of the room’s entrance. “’Morning.” He mumbles, and Michael looks down at him, expression softening as he registers Gavin’s sleep-rumpled state.

 

“Hey,” he says, giving Gavin a small smile before he leans down to press a kiss against his lips. “Someone’s fucking hammering on your door.”

 

Gavin pulls away and lets out a small groan as the incessant knocking continues. “Who is it?” he calls out, and is jolted awake at the sound of Geoff’s voice in response.

 

“Gavin! A fucking hotel from downtown’s been calling the house line asking for you! Said you should be checking out and getting your stuff since the ‘occupant’ fucking _disappeared_ this morning and never came back, what the fuck?”

 

Eyes widening as the implication of Geoff’s words washed over him like a bloody tidal wave, Gavin searches the room frantically until he registers the blackened bit of rock on his desk. _No. No, no, no, **no.**_

****

He couldn’t just disappear. Not without saying goodbye.

 

Ignoring Michael’s concerned look, Gavin shoots out of bed and puts his clothes on as fast as a he can, grabs the rock and walks over to the door to wrench it open, only to be greeted by Geoff’s confused face.

 

“What the hell have you been—is that _Michael_ on your bed?!”

 

“I’m going out,” Gavin says briskly and walks out into the street, too wound up on the image of an empty hotel room, on the idea of never seeing _him_ again, to care that Geoff has actually seen Michael _naked_ in Gavin’s bedroom. He barely registers the muffled movements behind him, of Michael hurriedly getting dressed and sidestepping a bewildered Geoff to catch up to where he’s currently walking, desperately thinking of any way to just use the rock to call _his Michael—_ whatever that means now—back to his own reality, just so he can see him one last time.

 

“Gavin! Fucking wait for a second, will you?” He feels Michael grip his arm tight and pull him back, effectively stopping him from just walking all the way downtown to where the hotel is. Gavin would’ve, given the current state he's in at the moment. He looks up to see Michael staring back at him, confusion and hurt evident on his features as he tries to make Gavin see sense.

 

“He’s not meant to stay here, Gavin, you have to—”

 

“I _can’t,_ ” Gavin says, and he hears the own break in his voice, sees Michael wince at the errant sound. “Not without seeing him. So I can—I can thank him properly, say my goodbyes.”

 

He turns and resumes walking again, intent on getting to the hotel, but Michael just grabs his arm and drags him to his car, which is parked just along the street near Geoff’s house.

 

“You’re not fucking getting there on foot, you idiot,” Michael says, sounding gruff, and Gavin lets himself be pushed into the passenger seat. Too preoccupied by the idea of not being able to see his Michael forever, he doesn’t notice how the real Michael looks, face shuttered and jaw tight, as he sits on the driver’s seat and starts the car without another word in his direction.

 

\--

 

“He’s not here,” Gavin hears Michael say, the words small and clipped, as they stand inside the empty hotel room. Gavin’s Xbox sits on the floor near the television, the controller strewn on the floor like the other Michael had just left it, and boxes of takeaway littered the desk situated against the wall. The bed’s unmade, like someone had just been in it, but when Gavin reaches down to touch the covers, all he can feel is bitter, unmistakeable cold.

 

He straightens up, clenching his fists and willing himself not to break into tears. Biting his lip to stop it from wobbling, he turns to face Michael, and promptly sees the look on the man’s face.

 

There it is again, the rigidity of his features, the tight jaw and clenched muscles, like Michael is fully intent on shutting him out and pushing him away.

 

He’d seen this look on the other Michael’s face too, every so often. Always when Gavin forgot to control the urge to ask about his fiancé, about the man he’d left in the other world. The other Michael’s face would shutter and become guarded, and he’d look away, before turning back to him with a gentle smile or a teasing grin, as if he’d schooled his features into something that would hide his pain from Gavin’s searching gaze.

 

It’s the same look on Michael’s face now, expressionless and just plain _wrong._ It’s also the punch in the gut that Gavin needed, enough to bring him back to his own, blinding reality.

 

“Oh god,” he croaks out, and surges forward to grab Michael’s arm and pull the man to him, crushing him in a tight embrace. “I’m such a bloody _knob._ Sorry, sorry, sorry!”

 

“What the fuck are you—” Michael begins, trying to sound indignant, but the crack in his voice is enough to tell Gavin that he’d manage to break in, to pull him out of the shell he’d built around himself to hide his hurt. It encourages the swell of utter _love_ in Gavin’s chest, of joy in the fact that he’s _here,_ with him, and only _for him._

His own Michael. His own, _real_ Michael. Not someone whose heart really belonged to another version of him.

 

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” Gavin says again, burying his face in Michael’s neck and hugging him tighter and ignoring his half-hearted protests. “I just wanted to say goodbye, but I love you. I’m in-love with you. Only _you._ I’m a knob, I’m sorry.”

 

Michael is silent for a long time, body growing rigid in Gavin’s hold, and he has a few moments to worry that he’s probably said too much, probably frightened the man away with his own soddy declarations of love like a bloody fool, but then Michael is suddenly wrapping his arms around him too, his head nuzzling into Gavin’s shoulder, breathing out a gust of warm air on his neck.

 

“You’re an idiot,” he says, voice small and affectionate, and Gavin’s heart threatens to burst in his chest. And bloody _hell,_ destiny really doesn’t just fuck around, does it?

 

“I’m sorry,” Gavin says again, smiling this time, and he can _feel_ Michaelsmiling too, right against his skin, holding him close like a promise of the days, months, _years_ to come.

 

“Shut up,” Michael mumbles, and tightens his hold around Gavin. “And…and I love you too. Just—just to make things clear.” He finally adds, as if Gavin’s grin couldn’t get any wider.

 

He feels the crystal in his pocket grow warm at this, and for a second, Gavin can sense him, the _other_ Michael, looking on at them with affection and pride, and Gavin just _knows_ that destiny did the right thing, sending him over to their world, to pull their head out of their arses until they both saw what was right in front of them.

 

He closes his eyes and breathes in Michael’s scent, thinking that later—much, _much_ later, after he and Michael have fully expressed how bloody head-over-bollocks with each other they are—he’d buy some flowers and pay a certain crystal lady a much-deserved visit.

 

\--

 

**End**


End file.
